Winny lay for nearly an hour meditating upon the past, the present,
and the future. Upon the whole she did not regret what had occurred,
either before or after she had met Tom Murdock, and she cooled down
into her accustomed self-possession sooner than she had supposed
possible.
One grand object had been attained. Tom Murdock had come to the point,
and she had given him his final and irrevocable answer, if she had
twenty fathers thundering parental authority in her ears. A spot of
blue sky had appeared too in the east, above the outline of Shanvilla
mountain, in which the morning-star of her young life might soon
arise, and shine brightly through the flimsy clouds--or she could call
them nothing but flimsy now--which had hitherto darkened her hopes.
What if Tom Murdock was a villain?--and she believed he was: what
dared he--what could he do? Pshaw, nothing! But, oh that the
passage-of-arms between herself and her father was over! "Then,"
thought she, "all might be plain sailing before me."
But, Winny, supposing all these matters fairly over,--and the battle
with your father is likely to be as cranky and tough upon his part as
it is certain to be straightforward and determined upon yours,--there
will still be a doubtful blank upon your mind and in your heart, and
one the solution of which you cannot, even with Kate Mulvey's
assistance, seek an occasion to fill up. Ah, no, you must trust to
chance for time and opportunity for that most important of all your
interviews. And what if you be mistaken after all, and, if mistaken,
crushed for ever by the result?
Let Winny alone for that. Women seldom make a bad guess in such a
case.
Winny's mental and nervous system having both regained their ordinary
degree of composure, she left her room, and proceeded through the
house upon her usual occupations. She was not, however, quite free
from a certain degree of anxiety at the anticipated interview with her
father. He had not in any way intimated his intention to ask certain
questions touching any communication she might have received from Tom
Murdock, together with her answers thereto; and yet she felt certain
that on the first favorable occasion he would ask the questions,
without any notice whatever. She had subsided for the day, after a
very exciting morning upon two very different subjects. Yes; she
called them different, though they were pretty much akin; and she
would now prefer a cessation of her anxiety for the remainder of that
afternoon at least.
So far she was fortunate. Her father did not come in until it was very
late; and being much fatigued by his stewardship of the day, he did
not appear inclined to enter upon any important subject, but fell
asleep in his arm-chair after a hasty and (Winny observed)
scarcely-touched dinner.
Winny was an affectionate good child. She was devotedly fond of her
father, with whose image were associated all her thoughts of happiness
and love since she was able to clasp his knees and clamber to his lap.
Even yet no absolute allegiance of a decided nature claimed the
disloyalty of her heart; but she felt that the time was not far
distant when either he must abdicate his royalty, or she must rebel.
"It is clearly my duty now," she said to herself, "not to delay this
business about Tom, upon the chance of his being the first to speak of
it: to-morrow, before the cares and labors of the day occupy his mind,
and perhaps make him ever so little a bit cross, I will tell him what
has happened. I am afraid he will be very angry with me for refusing
that man; but it cannot be helped: not for all the gold they both
possess would I marry Tom Murdock. I shall not betray his sordid
villany, however, until all other resources fail; but I know my father
will scorn the fellow as I do when he knows the whole truth--but ah, I
have no witness," thought she, "and they will make a liar of me."
If the old man could have ever perceived any difference in the kind
and affectionate attention so uniformly bestowed upon him by his fond
daughter, perhaps it might have been upon that night after he awoke
from a rather lengthened nap in his easy chair.
Winny had sat during the whole time gazing upon the loved features of
the sleeping old man. She could not call to mind, from the day upon
which her memory first became conscious, a single unkind or even a
harsh word which he had uttered to her. That he could be more than
harsh to others she knew, and she was now in her nineteenth year;
fifteen clear years, she might say, of unbroken memory. She could
remember her fifth birthday quite well, and so much as a snappish word
or a commanding look she had never received from him; not, God knows,
but he had good reason, many's the time, for more than either. And
there he lay now, calm, and fast asleep, the only one belonging to her
on the wide earth, and she meditating an opposition in her heart to
his plans respecting her--all, she knew, arising from the great love
he had for her, and the frustration of which, she was aware, would vex
him sore. "Oh, Tom Murdock, Tom Murdock, why are you Tom Murdock? or
Emon-a-knock, why did I ever see you?" was the conclusion to this
train of thought, as she sat still, gazing on her sleeping father.
Then a happier train succeeded, and a fond smile lit up her handsome
face. "Ah no, no! I am the only being belonging to him, the only one
he loves. The father who for nearly twenty years never spoke an unkind
word--and if he had reason to reprove me did so by example and
request, and not the rod--has only to know that a marriage with Tom
Murdock would make me miserable to make him spurn him, as I did
myself. As to the other boy, I know nothing for certain myself about
him, and I can fairly deny any accusation he may make; and I am
certain he has been put up to it by old Murdock through his son. Yet
even on this score I'll deny as little as I can."
Here it was her father awakened; and Winny had only time to conclude
her thoughts by wondering how that fellow dare call Emon "a whelp."
"Well, father dear," she said, "you have had a nice nap; you must have
been very tired. I wish I was a man, that I might help you on the
farm."
"Winny darlin', I wouldn't have you anything but what you are for the
world. I have not much to do at all on the farm but to poke about, and
see that the men I have at work don't rob me by idling; and I must say
I never saw honester work than what they leave after them. But, Winny,
I came across old Murdock shortly after I went out, and he came over
my land with me, and I went over his with him, so that we had rather a
long walk. I'll engage he's as tired as what I am. I did not think his
farm was so extensive as it is, or that the land was so good, or in
such to-au-op caun-di-shon." And poor old Ned yawned and stretched
himself.
Winny saw through the whole thing at once. The matter of a marriage
between herself and Tom Murdock, and a union of the farms, had
doubtless been discussed between her father and old Mick Murdock, and
a final arrangement, so far as they were concerned, had been arrived
at. A hitch upon her part she was certain neither of them had
ever dreamt of; and yet "hitch" was a slight word to express the
opposition she was determined to give to their wishes.
She knew that if her father had got so far as where he had been
interrupted by the yawn when he was fresh after breakfast, the whole
thing would have come out. She was, however, a considerate girl; and
although she knew there was at that moment a good opening, where a
word would have brought the matter on, she knew that the result would
have completely driven rest and sleep from the poor old man's pillow
for the night, tired and fatigued as he was. She therefore adroitly
changed the conversation to his own comforts in a cup of tea before he
went to bed.
"Yes, _mavourneen_" he said, "I fell asleep before I mixed a tumbler
of punch, and I'll take the tea now instead; for, Winny, my love, you
can join me at that. Do you know, Winny, I'm very thirsty?"
"Well, father dear, I'll soon give you what will refresh you."
While Winny was busying herself for the tea, putting down a huge
kettle of water in the kitchen, and rattling the cups and saucers
until you'd think she was trying to break them, the old man wakened up
into a train of thought not altogether dissimilar to that which Winny
herself had indulged in over his sleeping form.
Winny was quite right. The whole matter had been discussed on that day
between the old men during their perambulations round the two farms;
the respective value and condition of the land forming a minute
calculation not unconnected with the other portion of their
discourse--settlements, deeds of conveyance, etc., etc., had all been
touched upon.
Winny was right in another of her surmises, although at the time she
scarcely believed so herself. Old Murdock, taking his cue from Tom,
told old Ned that if he found Winny at all averse to marrying Tom, he
was certain young Lennon would be at the bottom of it--at least Tom
had more than hinted such to him.
Old Ned was furious at this, declaring that if Tom Murdock was never
to the fore, his daughter should never bestow his long and hard
earnings upon a pauper like that, looking for a day's wages here and
there, and as often without it as with it; how dare the likes of him
lift his eyes to his little girl! But he'd soon put a stop to that, if
there was anything in it, let what would turn up. Every penny-piece he
was worth in the world was in his own power, and there was a very easy
way of bringing Miss Winny to her senses, if she had that wild notion
in her head.
Poor old Ned, in his indignation for what he thought Winny's welfare,
forgot that she was the only being belonging to him in the world, and
that when it came to the point he would find it impossible to put this
threat of "cutting her off" into execution.
Old Murdock was delighted with this tirade against young Lennon, whom
he looked upon as the only real obstacle to Tom's acquisition of land
and money, to say nothing of a handsome wife.
"Be studdy with her, Ned," said he, "she has a very floostherin' way
wid her where you're concerned; I often remarked it. Don't let her
come round you, Ned, wid her pillaverin' about that 'whelp,' as Tom
calls him."
"An' he calls him quite right. If he daars to look up to my little
girl, he'll soon find out his mistake, I can tell him."
"Nothin' would show him his mistake so much as to have Tom's business
an' hers settled at Shraft, Ned."
"I know that, Mick; an' with the blessing I'll spake to her in the
mornin' upon the subjict. I dunna did Tom ever spake to herself,
Mick?"
"If he didn't he will afore to-morrow night; he's on the watch to meet
with her by accident; he says it's betther nor to go straight up to
her, an' maybe frighten her."
"Very well, Mick; I'll have an eye to them; maybe it would be betther
let Tom himself spake first. These girls are so dam' proud; an'
I can tell you it is betther not vex Winny."
Of course these two old men said a great deal more; but the above is
the pith of what set old Ned Cavana thinking the greater part of the
night; for the tea Winny made was very strong, and, as he said, he was
thirsty, having missed his tumbler of punch after dinner. He fell
asleep, however, much sooner than he would have done had the sequel to
his plans become known to him before he went to bed.